The Things We do For Love
by Professor N
Summary: 'You have to choose NOW'-'I don't-I just what's it gonna be like? What will I feel' - 'You will feel nothing and it will be like you never existed'. I closed my eyes. It was too much - too much too fast too soon. 'And...what about Patch', I choked on the name. 'He will feel everything and-' ' But he won't know me'. '...No'. I tried not to cry out. The answer was clear. 'Do it'.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

 **The Second coming**

It was a room like any other ; faded beige carpet abstractly decorated with a multitude of mystery stains (most of which were paint, but visitors still wondered about the red ones , and who could blame them in a place like this), worn but sturdy furniture that stood the test of time and just enough wallpapered walls to uphold the heaving ceiling.

I sat on the edge of the large king sized bed, my hands folded under my chin in a gesture of calculating measure . Of thinking. And of coming up short.

The piece of paper which ignited my mind so was poking out from between my intertwined fingers, gently caressing my lips, covering them and making sure I kept them shut. I sighed and the note fluttered , light as a feather . Only I knew how much weight it really bore. I could feel it crushing my heart.

This cannot be happening. Not to him. Oh God oh please let it be a mistake.

I squeezed my eyes shut against the horrid reality which threatened to consume , well, everything.

All of a sudden I jumped up on my feet , adopting a fighting stance - physically, mentally and emotionally. I would not do this. I will fight , The thought burned white hot and just as bright against the inside of my skull before flaring out as quickly as it appeared.

I can't fight them .

The realisation lay so heavy on my shoulders it threatened to compress me into ash.

No one can - it's why I'm here.

I looked at the door with glistening, fearful and fury-misted eyes. I had no time - I was running out of air. He would be here any minute now and I was back to being the little frightened girl . I was back to needing him. Only now he didn't know who i was and God knows he won't help a stranger. Not after what the last one has done to him . To me. To us.

Argh! I groaned with such fury as befitting my new rank as Angel of Death. I was a rolling ball of fire and wrath so strong even hell hath not known such angst.

This wasn't the deal I pushed out with my mind as far as I could, willing the message to reach the highest arch in heaven.

Everything I've done - EVERYTHING I'VE DONE FOR YOU.

I couldn't help it I collapsed in a mess of dry sobs and momentary defeat. This was all too much. After everything they've put me through I should've seen it coming but my innate naivety fooled me into believing it was over. The battle was fought . They won . But at least it was over. I've paid the ransom for him with my life.

I'VE PAID THE RANSOM I screamed blindly in my mind praying the archangels would hear, knowing they'd ignore the call - or rather, the accusation.

Later when I revisited the memory I would try and convince myself that I imagined the faint chuckle which contrasted my raw red anguish, afraid of what the alternative would mean.

Time was running out too quickly . I rolled onto my side and heaved myself upwards and off of the dirty floor, rubbing at my itchy eyes.

After all I had a job to do . A star-crossed assignment that my employers would pay for. I laughed a mirthless laugh. Who was I kidding? The weren't employers but masters of my soul. They held it within their palms - each of the archangels in charge of a little tattered piece , hell-bent on destroying it while squeezing out as much fragrant pain as possible.

Then all of a sudden two little noises made time stop in its tracks and halted the earth spinning on its unforgiving axis.

knock knock

The sound seemed to steel something inside of me and suddenly I stood as straight as could be and focused my eyes on the slowly opening door, the barely audible creek augmenting my rock hard resolve for vengeance.

A pair of the blackest of eyes twinkled from inside the shadowed crack before slowly but purposefully making their way into the dusty room.

The tattered baseball hat hid them to some extent but I knew them too well ...once upon a time. Only all of a sudden once upon a time was now - it was here again and I struggled under the onslaught of memories.

His eyes gave away not an ounce of recognition and why would they? As far as he was concerned I never existed up until now. They stole me from him.

My hand twitched , wanting to reach out to this poor, clueless boy and the crumpled, abused note escaped my clutches , sailing on the breeze which he let into the room, before gently landing face-up on the ground.

Two words were clearly visible on the post-it . The archangels' instructions were inscribed in glistening crimson ink :

Kill Patch.

...

All reviews are greatly appreciated - let me know what you think of this alternative twist on the story which we all know and love so well!


	2. Chapter 2 : Here We Go Again

**Chapter 2**

 **Here We Go Again.**

This is not happening , I kept telling myself, pretending like the world wasn't ending and being reborn again at the same time right in front of my eyes. A tornado of emotions was raging within me and it must have been painted clearly in my glistening eyes as Patch's own charcoal ones creased with confusion and obvious discomfort – but not even a flash of recognition.

I am dead – a ghost of the ether. I don't feel or experience . I just am. I think.

I pushed the flood of memories away, knowing that they did not belong to me anymore. They were some other girl's and she was long and irrevocably gone. I cleared my throat loudly , banishing the lump which lodged there. I pushed all thoughts of the wretched note to the back of my mind. I would deal with it later , when the time came. And something told me that it wasn't going to take its own sweet time getting here. But regardless, right now, I had a job to do. Actually , speaking of – what the hell was Patch doing in a brothel?

I didn't have time to ponder the integrity of Patch's morals as all of a sudden he took a predatory step forward , breaking the deep reverie of unanswerable questions in which I found myself drowning.

He smiled. I gasped. It was such a beautiful smile , it stood for so many things...not that he knew. But as gorgeous as his smile was, it wasn't exactly like the one I remembered. It was...darker . More despondent. It hid something, the nature of which Patch himself couldn't even guess at. The only reason I knew was because I saw a magnified version of it every day when looking in the mirror .

I returned my attention to the sinfully beautiful conundrum in front of me.

"...Perfect", a husky voice confessed in a slightly hushed tone as his eyes drank me in. It was like melted chocolate; rich, smooth , and most importantly it made me crave something I shouldn't.

"Perfection is a subjective standard. An illusion. And I am certainly not a mirage...if you'd care to find out", I responded in a teasing tone, the words dripping with insinuation. I've been playing the game for a long time now – I knew how this worked. And judging by Patch's expression so did he – a prospect which concerned me greatly. The Patch I knew certainly wasn't any definition of innocent but slouching around at morally questionable establishments wasn't why I-... it wasn't what I wanted for him.

"Well, I suppose that is what I'm paying for", he uttered , amusement colouring his words as his form slowly advanced in order to eclipse mine. He was so close now, I could simply reach out and touch the dark material of his plain black T-shirt. Not ... that I would feel it, I sighed , self-pity making an unscheduled appearance. It was funny , I lacked the capacity to feel the tiniest speck of pleasure on my skin and yet the ache within was as big a torture as ever. It almost overshadowed the fact that an evil conclave of the so-called servants of heaven wanted the love of my life (as unaware as he was of that fact) dead ... at my own hands.

Collapsing back into my role as a Lady of the Night I continued to string Patch along with more suggestive words, not exactly sure where I was hoping to go.

"You sure know how to make a girl feel special", I sighed before chuckling , seemingly amused.

"Oh Girl, I'm trying to hold back. You've no idea". His eyes raked me up and down and I had to force myself to remember that this wasn't him – well, no, it WAS him but it wasn't me. It wasn't us. There could never be an us ever again. Besides it's not like he came here looking for a relationship – just relations. Which was ...odd. And nothing like the boy I used to know. But then again I'm not exactly the Nora he was ripped away from ...that time. I wasn't sure if I was anything anymore besides a tool ...and a weapon.

Then suddenly I could feel Patch's hand in my hair. Well, I couldn't exactly FEEL it but I sensed the shift in energy that took place between us. I shivered and he grinned, apparently loving the effect he had on me.

I had to stop this – this wasn't how it was supposed to work. The mission was; get in, flirt, get information, get out . And if necessary, get my hands a little dirty in the process. After all, I wasn't the Angel of Death in title only.

I was going to pull away , I was just about to I swear but then something strange happened. He pulled my entire body into his and ever so gently pressed his full lips against my right temple. It wasn't even a kiss, it was a caress, a fragile and meaningful connection between two entities who ran on completely different wavelengths. And it certainly was not the way a man is supposed to treat a prostitute.

Long , dark cracks were beginning to spider-web at the edges of the dam which I built to hold back the reservoir of memories . It was the only way to face everyday life without spontaneously combusting from the sheer weight of my loss . The loss which I myself approved with the scalding seal of someone backed into a corner with no way out. And now...now it was all about to come crashing down. For a split second I wondered if I would survive the fall . It was only a split second because Patch chose that moment to uproot every fortification I built to imprison any and all hope over the past years.

In truth, it was pathetic that all it took to destroy my seemingly rock-hard resolve was one simple word. The one banal phrase muffled by the curly mess of my hair that I would soon blame for , well...everything.

"Angel".

...

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